


Omega mine

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha Jack, Alpha Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Besotted Hannibal, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a superstar, Hannibal is still Hannibal, Happy Ending, I will update tags as I go, M/M, Rejection, Sassy Will, Some angst, Will Loves Hannibal, alternative universe, omega bev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: "Strength, power and authority wafts into the room even before the door opens. Whoever the scent belongs to is not someone Will Graham wishes to cross."Or Jack Crawford brings Hannibal "The Ripper" Lecter in as a consultant and it makes Will want to bare his teeth and growl.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts off with the same first meeting as the show then goes its own merry way. Will has been working with Jack for several years and is starting to lose himself, hence why Jack brings in Hannibal. 
> 
> I envisage another three chapters to this fic. I've currently got a bit of a block on the chaptered fic 'Ribbons' and hope writing a few short fics will help sort me. 
> 
> No beta. This is a fun fic I have no intention of spending hours poring over it as I do my other stuff. I hope to have it all written and posted in the next few weeks.
> 
> To be honest I'm not sure if I will write smut in this but we will see.

Hannibal Lecter always looks like the cat who got the cream and this morning there is an extra spring to his step.

Normally he has little time to indulge the awe struck and the autograph hunters, after all he is a very busy man. As he walks through the reception area at Quantico he slows down taking his time, he gives a smile here, a nod there, its almost like a parade. He enjoys the double takes, the “oh my god is that,” and the admirers trying to catch a glimpse of his famously pert arse.

Assistant FBI Director Jack Crawford knocking on his door had been the last thing Hannibal had expected. At first he wondered if they had finally figured him out, but as he put down his scalpel and picked up the file of one Will Graham he realised they had not. Crawford had asked ‘if he would be available to meet with Agent Graham.’ Hannibal had paused, gave a moment to carefully concealed glee, before replying that he would be ‘delighted’.  

Who amongst his circle hadn’t heard of the infamous FBI profiler. Many of his colleagues would stab each other in the back, and not just metaphorically speaking, for the chance of exploring that particular mind and it had just been handed to him along with access to the very place hunting his own alter ego ‘Ill monstro.”

People stop what they were doing and stand to the side in the corridor as Hannibal makes his way to Crawford’s office. He’s pretty sure at least one staff member needs to be taken out for air after he greets them with a ‘good morning’ followed by a wink.   

Hannibal stops before an ordinary looking door, wood with a small name plate sat below a glass panel. He knocks politely and enters.

.....

Strength, power and authority wafts into the room even before the door opens. Whoever the scent belongs to is not someone Will Graham wishes to cross. Will is an Alpha, but on the scale which determines Alpha-ness, he is a two at the very most, almost a Beta really. That scent, now that was a ten, or a ten triple star plus, if there was such a thing. _He must have made his parents so very proud,_ thinks Will as he forces himself to not turn towards the door. He breaths in and out trying to uncoil his muscles and lower his hackles. The urge to fight is an entirely natural response in the face of an unfamiliar Alpha, but in the modern world it is out of place and wholly unprofessional. The word ‘professional’ never really sat well with Will but if he doesn’t want to earn another one of Jack’s anger management mishaps he needs to at least try. Internally he repeats the mantra, ‘we are more than our biology,’ it doesn’t work.

 _Hannibal fucking Lecter._ They have never met before, but Will knows of the man, who doesn’t. Surgeon, psychiatrist, philanthropist, darling of the elite, host of amazing dinner parties and six times winner, it might be more but Will never watched, of the Alpha Combat Games. The undisputed champion, rumoured to be retiring this year and giving the younger generation a chance, or some such rubbish. Jack is a fan boy, he’s never missed a televised game, he even wears the authorised ‘Ripper’ hoodie on his morning jog. Oh how Jack must have loved the opportunity to request Hannibal’s services as a consultant, sniggers Will to himself.

With a blink and a shake of the head Will sets aside his thoughts and focuses on the man who is settling into the chair next to him. He gives himself a moment and takes in Hannibal, the soft, floppy, academic jacket and trousers are appealing and touchable they say ‘come into my parlour I’m nothing to be afraid of’. Its not true of course, even if Hannibal wore a scent blocker, more and more Alphas do, it would not disguise that he is a egotistical, glory hunting, sadist. In Will’s opinion that goes for pretty much all of those who take part in the games. Will has never thought about entering, he doesn’t have the need to preen in front of the world’s cameras, and he’d get squashed as quickly as a fly.

Although the games are not ‘to the death,’ fatalities do happen but that’s just part of the risk, and the allure. They are bloody and brutal and many combatants end up permanently disabled. The games are justified as an outlet for natural Alpha aggression and dominance, a few combatants get mauled and the rest go home and continue being useful members of society, what is not to like.

If Will remembers correctly, Hannibal has no kills recorded against him, he shows just enough restraint to allow his opponent to survive, with the intervention of long term medical care. Hannibal is loved for many reasons, he’s a show man who talks to the audience, not like one of those smarmy day time TV hosts, he’s charming, witty and as gracious as if he were hosting a dinner party. Ballads have been written about the beauty of his fighting style, it’s not brash, no wham bam thank you ma’am, instead its artistic, original and always satisfying to watch, or so Will has been told.

Will tries to smile at Hannibal but winces as he hears himself growl. To all intent and purposes he has challenged the reigning champion of the world’s bloodiest legal sport to a fight. He pales, _what the fuck am I doing_ , and shrinks back into his chair _._ Hannibal just smiles and says something about not liking eye contact, this time Will successfully represses a snarl.

......

There is a chuckle tickling at the back of Hannibal’s throat, he coughs and it is gone. He has no intention of taking up Will’s accidental call to fight. Rusty, nervous and quite frankly laughable was how Hannibal would sum up the growl. It was the growl of a man who would much rather be curled up with a pack of dogs than sat under the scrutiny of two domineering Alphas. When Will abruptly got up from his chair, leaving behind waves of seething anger and  bitterness, Hannibal was not surprised.

Although  his quick departure was expected it was disappointing Hannibal would have liked to spend longer  in the presence of Will. The man stank with anxiety but the moment Hannibal had laid eyes on him he’d wanted to nuzzle up to Will, running his nose through wild curls and allow his mouth to linger over pale skin breathing in the scent until he could taste it.

.......

Later that evening sitting down to dinner Hannibal couldn’t help a broad smile at how perfectly “Will Graham-Lecter” sounded on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

It is that in-between time of the morning when most people start to drift away from the Land of Nod to the bright world of day. A figure moves across Will’s curtains it is long, slim and seems to glide. It could easily be a nightmare, Will is used to those.

A knock at the door does nothing to wipe away his unease, but the barking of the dogs indicates he is not imagining the noise Will is relieved about that at least. He throws back the bedcovers, sits on the edge of the mattress runs his hands through his hair and over his face. Silently he plans a myriad ways to kill whoever dares disturb him at this hour. If it is Jack the crime scene had better be spectacular, but then Jack is not the type to glide.

It hits him before he gets within two feet of the door, that same over powering Alpha scent as yesterday. The one and only Doctor Hannibal Lecter has decided to make a house call. Will is tempted to climb back into bed pulling the bedsheets over his head but he’s pretty sure Hannibal is the persistent type.

He opens the door a scowl etched deep on his face.

“Good morning Will.”

There are many things Will would describe this morning, but ‘good’ is not one of them.

OoOoO

It would not be seemly for Hannibal to stare at the teeny tee-shirt and briefs which make an appearance at the door. They are quite glorious even the sweat stains do not detract from them. It is however far too early in the (currently secret) courtship to even hint at his intentions so Hannibal keeps his eyes firmly on the area of Will’s chin and upwards. Not even the neck, especially not the neck, is a safe zone.

“Good morning Will.”

Silence. There is no attempt to return the greeting. Instead with glasses strategically perched on nose Will gives what Hannibal would consider to be a withering stare.

Clearing his throat Hannibal proceeds as planned, “I came to apologise for what must have seemed an ambush yesterday.”

“By ambushing me at this early hour Doctor Lecter.”

Glancing at his watch Hannibal sighs at his own apparent incompetence, “Ah, another reason for me to apologise. I’m an early riser and neglected to check the time.” 

It’s a lie within a truth, Hannibal knew exactly what time he had wanted to arrive. Maybe the lie will be caught, maybe with Will’s brain befuddled by sleep, or lack of it, it wont.

Will makes no attempt to push his glasses up from the bridge of his nose, it is not a good sign.

They seem to be at an impasse.

“I have brought eggs and sausages,” says Hannibal raising the bags in his hands. “Let me make you a protein scramble as an apology.”

“I’ve even got enough for your dogs,” he adds as Buster peeps out from in between Will’s legs.

Closing his eyes and sighing Will says, “well you might as well come in Doctor Lecter.” He looks back into the room, his dogs have all perked up. They understand human well enough, “otherwise they will never forgive me.”

As the saying goes the way to an Alpha’s heart is through his or her stomach, or in Wills case his dog’s stomachs.

 

OoOoO

Thinking of Will is a pleasant way for Hannibal to spend his time. Sitting comfortably in his office chair he finds his mind drifting over the past few weeks. Their first few tense encounters had not been promising and he is sure Will would have happily never seen his face again. He had, admittedly, been a little forward in turning up for breakfast unannounced. It was rude, unforgivably rude really, but in love and in war everything is, as they say, fair.

He is pleased with the progress of their relationship, for it is a relationship even if Will, at this moment, doesn’t realise it. They have been in each others company a lot recently what with crime scenes and their Friday ‘conversations’ which had, on occasion, resulted in Will staying for dinner. The thought of Will in his home brings a smile to Hannibal’s lips. Many Alphas would find it very stressful being in the ‘lair’ of such a powerful biological rival. Will, who is normally so wound up, seems to relax, enjoy the food and conversation and be in no hurry to leave.

Like the man himself Hannibal’s house is impressive. It is part of his person suit and as such hidden within its depth is darkness and terror. Just for the sheer hell of it Hannibal once hosted a dinner party whilst the main course lay bound, gagged and attached to a drip in his cellar. He’d preened even more than normal at the compliments on the tenderness of his meat. If only they had known they would have ran screaming, but they will never know unless they are rude. Which, thinks Hannibal, is entirely possible for some of them.

Will is rude but that is another matter entirely. It is part of his protective barrier and also charming and entirely forgivable. Hannibal is shocked at how quickly he has fallen for Will, it is unprecedented. He will admit to himself, and no one else, that he is lonely and craves to be seen. Oh, there are plenty of people who would like to keep him company. It is not big headed only truthful to review his own many attributes. He is wealthy, famous, good looking and a good cook to name but a few. All that matters nothing to Will, what attracts him is something else entirely Hannibal knows this and he just has to have patience.

There is no great complexity to Hannibal’s plan. He judged simplicity to be the best way to catch his prey and encounter the least problems. It is not unlike how one acts with wary animals, offer safety, reassurance and food and eventually they come to you. After his initial forwardness Hannibal had retreated but not before Will knew here was someone who would walk with him in the darkness. Someone who would not turn away, nor judge or vilify him. Someone who he could spar with mentally and who would always treat him as an equal.Hannibal knows how attractive that would be to someone as neglected as Will and it didn’t take long for him to be proved correct.

There is just the matter of encephalitis. Hannibal’s sense of smell is much keener than most Alphas and it will be a while before anyone else can smell the illness quietly smouldering away inside Will’s head. It is still early days and the symptoms can easily be put down to the stress of an uncommon mind. He will not allow it to progress much further, just long enough for him to ride to the rescue like a knight in an exquisite three piece suit.

Hannibal would like to think the rescuing through a little more thoroughly. However, he has to admit, somewhat reluctantly, it isn’t really professional to be thinking of one’s soon to be lover when a client sits across from you.

Franklyn has come to the end of his normal ten minute monologue of the mundane and has now addressed Hannibal directly, “It was good to see you at the cheese market on Saturday,” he says.

Hannibal supposes a reply is necessary.

“Is that the fifth time this month, we have ... accidently met?” he asks with a tilt to his head. He knows it unnerves some people, Franklyn in particular.

“Well it is a small city.”

Fingers knit together almost in prayer, or exasperation, “Not that small Franklyn.”

Hannibal pauses hums to himself, it is not unusual for clients to develop crushes on their therapists. For most it interferes very little with their therapy. Franklyn though is becoming very tiresome indeed.

“For the sake of your own personal development I feel it is time to consider referring you to someone else.”

At first glance Franklyn would appear an unlikely Alpha, he’s passive in his aggression, lacking in self confidence and carries no air of authority.

But he is more Alpha than Will. Where Will is lean and fine muscled, under Franklyn’s extra layer of flesh is Alpha steal. He is also neurotic and obsessive, two of the more troublesome Alpha traits. 

“You’re my seventh therapist,” whines Franklyn. “I thought we were friends.”

Hannibal has to bite back his Alpha instinct to crush underfoot such a display of weakness and self pity.

“I am your therapist Franklyn, not your friend.”

For a moment Hannibal imagines the sound of Franklyn’s vertebrae breaking. 

OoOoO

Something has been on Will’s mind all day, a niggle. Not just a niggle but a vague sense of unease. It is there in his stomach it makes him feel queasy, but he cant put a finger on what it is.

He goes to bed and it’s still there.

Several hours later he wakes sitting bolt upright, “Fuck” he says.

Looking around the room he meets wakeful canine eyes.

“We need to move.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta. mistakes my own. 
> 
> This is where the Omega in 'Omega mine' starts to come in but I don't want to give too much of the plot away. 
> 
> I have not thought too much about the society in which this occurs but here are a few words on it:
> 
> In the law and generally in day to day life, Alpha, Beta and Omega are regarded as equals. That is not to say that there is no discrimination, it is subtle. Some people, for example, would prefer Alpha children as they believe them to be more powerful and have more leadership potential than other genders. 
> 
> Most Omegas choose not to marry Alphas and vice versa because the bond is known to heighten traits such as possessiveness and can be potentially destabilising. Most marry their own gender or Betas, this is seen as normal and acceptable, although it is still acceptable for omegas to marry alphas.
> 
> Jack, Bev, Will and Hannibal regard all three genders as equal.

Will wakes in a room far too bright to be his own. His eyes are heavy and struggle to focus. He’s aware of a presence sat besides him a hand covering his own, it feels warm, comforting and ... odd. The touch is a simple gesture from someone who knows and cares about him but his mind, still groggy from sedatives, does not have the faintest idea of who it could be. People don’t normally touch him, on a subconscious level they fear his empathy disorder is catching. Maybe he is dreaming, his mind conjuring up a moment of comfort from his childhood, but those moments were few and far between. Whoever it is smells much better than any of his dogs. _Hannibal_ , thinks Will just before he closes his eyes and slips away.

The next person he is aware of wears a warm, spicy feminine fragrance, ‘Bev,’ he whispers through cracked lips.

“Good to see you awake,” she says turning towards him a grin on her face as she pops a chocolate in to her mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he says. Just like anyone else who wakes up in hospital. Although the room looks more like a suite in a hotel the beeping monitors and antiseptic smell reveal its true purpose. “What happened?”

He can feel her worry easing and turning to relief. “They have treated you for Encephalitis. It seems it was caught in time before it did any long term damage.”

Will nods he feels a weight has been lifted. Encephalitis, he doesn’t know much about it except that it messes with the brain. That could explain a lot of things. He should have gone to a doctor sooner, or spoke to Hannibal at least.  But he’d thought he was losing his mind, just like people have said he would since he was a child. It was a horror to him the thought they could be right.

“Jack found you on the floor,” continued Bev, interrupting Will’s train of thought. “You weren’t answering your phone, he was concerned so he called round.”

The sedatives coursing through Will’s veins do nothing to blunt his cynicism. A picture comes easily to his mind, Jack arriving primed for a fight, determined to force his reluctant and not so secret weapon back into the field. The drive over making him even more hair triggered than normal. Then he finds Will on the floor. Jack’s face flickers with shock, worry and guilt. Perhaps there was a  resolution to go easier if only Will was okay. It serves Jack right, thinks Will. Still, Jack probably saved his life. Some days when Will feels nothing more than an avatar for other people he might resent Jack for that but today he feels grateful.

“This place seems far better than my insurance can afford,” he observes whilst taking a sip of water from a glass Bev offers him.

She looks him in the eye with the ‘no bullshit allowed’ look she uses in the lab when she has an important pronouncement.

“Hannibal had you moved here, he got the best people to see you.”

Will scrunches his eyes brows wondering why he would do that. “That’s good of him but...”

Bev shifts her position on the chair straightening her back, getting ready to say something difficult.

Will’s gaze settles on Bev’s hands “Okay,” he says. “Tell me.” Whatever it is he knows he’s not going to like it.

“He, err claimed mate rights over you,” she says. No smirk, it’s not a joke.

Shit. “He did what, he can’t...what?”

The pause is one of those which warns things are going to get worse.

“And,” says Bev looking skywards as if asking the heavens for help. “You’re shifting gender to an Omega.”

“What no...” It feels like a kick to the chest, a hard kick. “No. It’s not possible.”

“You know it is Will and I think that is why you were packing when Jack found you.”

Will shudders. She is right of course and he damn well never wanted to have to acknowledge it verbally to anyone. He just wanted it to all go away.

“Hannibal’s and your pheromones have been doing the tango and decided they liked each other.”

Ugh. That made Will just want to squirm, but Bev is not yet done. “True mates Will, true mates. Do you know how rare that is.”

Even down to earth Bev sounds a little awestruck to Will’s ears. It’s the sort of thing dreams are made of at least according to Hollywood.

For Will it’s worse than any nightmare of feathered beast and walking dead.

“No, no.” If it meant never having to talk about this Will would have rather stayed on his living room floor. Jack has indeed a lot to answer for.

“I am not an Omega, no fucking way. There has to be a way to stop it.”

“There are worse things than being an Omega,” says Bev, raising her eye brow daring him to contradict.

Will coughs as a reminder that he is ill, but the eye brow stays raised. He knows there is nothing wrong with being an Omega. Bev is an Omega, she’s intelligent, respected in her field and known to put Alphas in their place rightful place, which is under her heel.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry. But you know I’m an Alpha and I want to stay that way.”

“Maybe, maybe not. This wouldn’t be happening if you didn’t want it biologically and emotionally to some extent.”

Then Bev snorts and her face lights up with an amused smile.

 _Jesus_ , thinks Will. Can’t she give the sick guy a break.

“That old wives tale, it’s not true you know.”

“Ok, what old wives tale?” he asks resigned to his fate. She can be as bad as Jimmy and Brian for taking the piss, although the three of them are normally good hearted.

 “That you’ll grow breasts.”

“Bev,” he cringes. He really should have remained on the floor.

“Okay, okay, in all seriousness though, the worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll have a bit less facial hair and a much higher sex drive, and people pay good money for that shit.”

“Bev, I appreciate what your trying to do but this is not what I want. There has to be a way to stop this, suppressants or something.”

“They wont give you suppressants, they don’t want to mess with your brain any more then they have to. But there is another way. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Here,” she says handing him a tablet. “I did some digging. There are old records of an Alpha taking out an exclusion order. It seems whilst you’re still an Alpha if he stays away from you it’s possible it’ll stop.”

“Oh,” muscles wound tight in his chest relax. “Thanks Bev.” Maybe he’d read it somewhere before because it is what had jumped into his mind the night he started packing all his, admittedly meagre, worldly belongings.

“You could just talk to him,” says Bev. She knows Will well.

“Yeah, but talking got me in this mess in the first place.” When they had first started ‘having conversations,’ when Will had felt understood for possibly the first time ever that was when his biology decided, yeah I’m having me a piece of that.

But he Will Graham was more than his biology and his mind said no.

“Will you miss him,” Bev asks. “Even a little.”

There is a sharp tug in his chest, why did she have to ask that.

How he felt about Hannibal was no ones business but his own. He wouldn’t, couldn’t deny to himself that Hannibal was his friend, his anchor, his safe place.

Even so, a feeling had been growing inside him. It had seeped into his dreams a monster of pitch and tar.

A glimpse of something dark, cold, cruel under the layers and layers of Hannibal’s public persona.

He had denied it at first, didn’t want to think about what he saw.

Was darkness recognising darkness, he had wondered. Did Hannibal’s monster call to his own or vice versa.

Was he as mad and as bad as everyone thought. He wanted to run far, far away so he would never find out.

“Yeah maybe,” is all he says. He doesn’t look at Bev and her enquiring eyes. It seems safer to study the half eaten box of chocolates instead.

“Nice chocolates,” says Bev acknowledging his chosen barrier.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing them.”

“Oh, they are not from me.”

Of course not, thinks Will. Why would she bring chocolates in a red box bedecked with ribbons and flowers. So obviously a courting gift.

“Here,” Will says gesturing the box towards Bev. “You have them. I’ll be getting that exclusion order as soon as I’m out,” he says eyeing the box suspiciously.

Bev sighs, “Ok, its your choice, but you need to listen to me otherwise you will be a lamb to the slaughter.”

He wants to say, don’t worry Bev I can take care of myself, but sat as he is in a hospital bed that is a blatant lie.

“The exclusion order will be a public record, people will know about it soon enough.”

“I can...”

“No,” Bev says with a firmness which makes Will startle. “let me finish. I don’t think you quite understand just how famous Hannibal is.”

Will rolls his eyes. Bev looks at him he doesn’t say a word.

Bev takes out her phone and taps away, without looking up she says, “he has nearly 300 million followers on Twitter.”

Will’s face is a portrait of disbelief, Bev laughs.

“You know what Twitter is don’t you?”

He nods, as she shoves her phone at him, “Look.”

All Will can think is ‘why.’ Why do that, why follow people you don’t know, he doesn’t have the foggiest why anyone would do that. Then something catches his eye.

Now it is his time to point, “you _follow_ each other. He only _follows_ 20 people.”

“Huh yeah, he followed us back after he came to the lab. Its not him actually it’s his agent mostly.”

“Us?” asks Will a little stony.

“Yeah, Jimmy, Brian, Jack and me. But that’s not the point.”

The words ‘Why is that not the fucking point,’ almost leave Will’s mouth. He bites his tongue, literally. He tastes blood but it's better than sounding manically possessive. Fuck.

“The point is that Hannibal is not just a big deal, he is THE biggest deal. Everything he does is scrutinised, everyone he interacts with is pored over and vetted by his fans who want to know if he or she is good enough for him.”

Bev pops another chocolate in her mouth and offers the tray to Will. He declines, he’s starting to  feel a bit ill.  

“The good news is they seem to like you. You want to see some of the photo manipulations of you two, not to mention their nickname...”

Wills in drawing of breath is audible. “Ok, maybe not,” says Bev.

“But yeah, when, not if, those records become public there will be a whole lot of heart broken people who will want to persuade you otherwise. There will be no hiding in the middle of nowhere for you, you’ll be splashed across all the news outlets and not just the gossip ones.”

Will cannot comprehend how he could have ended up in this situation. He lives quietly with his dogs and, except for when Jack gives him no choice, does his damnedest not to engage with the world. Right now he would like nothing better then to get up and walk out the door and keep going, but Bev does it instead.

She picks up her bag and pauses just in front of his bed, “My opinion, talk to Hannibal, come to some arrangement.”

With a shrug she adds, “or marry his ass its a very fine one after all.”

OoOoO

 

Hours pass, light dims, Will starts to slip into sleep once more. He almost misses the figure, more of a shadow in his peripheral vision, who enters his room. It hovers over him for a moment before settling into a chair by the foot of the bed.

Will groans as he turns over and shuffles up into a sitting position. Just that simple movement feels exhausting, he’s grateful when Hannibal moves forward fluffing up his pillows and helping him sit more easily.

“Thanks, I want to says thanks for all your help,” mumbles Will his voice heavy with sleep.

A glimmer of hope sparks in Hannibal’s eyes. Will sees it and knows he needs to put it out, ruthlessly and quickly. He is not one for prolonging torture any more than necessary.

“But...” says Will.

OoOoO

Will’s words cut as deep as any knife Hannibal has used, expertly applied their pain is yet still dull.

“I wont miss you.”

Hannibal doesn’t believe that not even for a second.

The pain will burn bright for both of them, not in this precise moment but in the moments to come.

Here and now Hannibal knows protests are futile so he will give Will what he wants. Quietly, once Will has said his piece, Hannibal gets up from his chair and heads for the door.

“I see you,” says Will. “Your other hobby.”

Hannibal pauses in his tracks, if he was to turn around he is sure he’d see a sneer on Will’s face. He doesn’t turn.

“Do you not find it beautiful Will, art even,” he asks, echoing words Will himself has spoken.

“It is the ugliest thing in the world.”

Liar.

Hannibal sees Will too but this is not the time nor the place to show and tell. The universe has brought them together, two perfect beasts. He just has to have patience. 

“You know where to find me, when you need me.”

There is a rustle of sheets as Will turns onto his side,

“I wont need you,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst it is a shock for Will to be shifting to an Omega, his real issue is not one of gender but of what it says about him to be Hannibal's true mate. Darkness calling to darkness blah, blah, blah, :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta - sorry for mistakes
> 
> there is one more chapter after this one

It almost goes without saying that Bev was right.

Overnight Will went from a backwoods man, of interest only to psychiatrists, to an international mystery.

How could he, man of plaid shirts, dog hair and deep set scowls, be Hannibal Lecter’s soul mate.

People stopped what they were doing, be it eating a burger, jogging or taking a piss to ponder that important question.

Even more incomprehensible was how said plaid shirt man could reject the man voted, for 12 years running, the handsomest man alive.

The words, ‘poor Hannibal,’ seemed to be written on everyone’s face.

There were a few brave souls who said, with a wash, a brush, new clothes, a good moisturiser and a smile on his face Will Graham would be quite the beauty, but most people just couldn’t see it.

Needless to say the media loved it and they fed their viewers, readers, listeners insatiable appetites for all things related to Hannibal’s soulmate. Will couldn’t go to crime scenes any more due to the three ringed circus which followed him and Wolf Trap became little more than a tent city for reporters.

It wasn’t Hannibal’s fault he was nothing if not a perfect gentleman. He didn’t contest the exclusion order and, without being asked, issued a statement saying this was a personal matter between him and Will and he’d appreciate it if Will was left alone.

It was a testament to Hannibal’s power that the reporters who had dogged Will for weeks packed up and went home. No one wanted to risk their access to the biggest star on the planet.

Will was glad to see the back of the reporters but they were just a nuisance.

It was the disappointment on everyone’s faces he found hardest to handle. He could feel the sadness of the postman, the assistant at the local food shop and random strangers who passed him on the street. There were times when even Jack, that hard nosed bastard, looked like he wanted to beg Will to reconsider.

Will handled it the only way he knew through the love of his dogs and whiskey and he hoped, in time, people would forget him.

.............................

Standing with his head low and hands stuffed in pockets Will could be any other anonymous individual queuing to get into the world headquarters of the Alpha games. He is, however, probably the only one feeling sick to his stomach.

He had stupidly insisted that as he was closest it would not be a problem to swing by and ask Hannibal if he could help with a case. Jack had put up no resistance to the idea and his, ‘have a good night,’ sounded positively merry to Will’s ears.

Waiting in line is an uncomfortable experience for Will the noise of the living invades his senses, excitement is everywhere climbing the walls and filling the spaces. His mind crawls with the mass of second hand emotion, it does not feel good. It overwhelms his own composure, he needs to be calm to face Hannibal not some jittery wreck.  This was a mistake. He should never have come but his body refuses to turn back, to turn away from where Hannibal is.

Will could just walk to the front of the queue, flash his FBI credentials and march in, but he wants to attract the least amount of attention possible. So he dutifully stares at his shoes and waits in line for a couple of hours. He is being absurd but he cant help himself.

Once or twice he catches someone turning their phone his way. His hackles rise, he feels observed but he gets himself back under control. Paranoia, that’s what it is, fuelled by the emotions running rampant in the room. Years have passed since his days of being stalked by reporters, no one would recognise him now, surely.

But they do. When Will finally reaches the front of the queue he sees the security guard do a double take. There is a smile or a smirk, maybe a combination of the two. Definitely surprise, intrigue and satisfaction.  Will can feel himself start to blush. Oh God. It doesn’t take an empath to know the security guard will be on his headset as soon as Will turns his back. The news will spread like wildfire. The guard will live off this for weeks.

He is pointed towards a set of double doors.

“Go straight ahead,” says the guard.  “There is a second set of doors buzz and they will let you through to Dr Lecter’s wing.”

 _Of course Hannibal would have a wing all to himself_ , thinks Will as he makes his way toward the doors. _He is far too grand to just have a room with a star on the door_.

The doors open as he approaches, a long corridor awaits him. For a moment he hesitates feeling an urge to turn around and walk back the way he came.  He feels the press of eyes on his back, he cant turn around, forwards it is then.

The corridor is quiet. The carpet plush and new smelling. There is a procession of large paintings. Paintings, notes Will with a chuckle, nothing so mundane as a poster. The Ripper is depicted glorious and triumphant, everything an Alpha should be.  Ten year of paintings hang on the wall, Hannibal has changed little over those years except a few more wrinkles around the eyes and streaks of grey in his hair. Age has not withered him if anything it has made him more sexy. Will gives himself a virtual slap for that thought.

As he approaches the second set of doors he looks for the buzzer, it is located on the right hand side. He sighs as he presses it. Why oh why is he doing this, for the life of him he cant think of a reasonable answer. He looks unsmiling into the camera above him and flashes his FBI badge.

Will stands in front of a wooden door. It’s the correct door, an engraved brass plate announces, ‘Dr Hannibal Lecter, The Ripper.’  He takes a breath and pushes the door open.

..............

  

Will is not sure how long he stands staring at the briefest of black briefs hugging Hannibal’s slim hips. All civilised thoughts are eclipsed, it just him, the briefs and flickers of long suppressed desire.

“It is rude to stare.”

“Sorry,” replies Will, eyes snapping up to Hannibal’s face and valiantly bypassing all the uncovered territory in between.

Will finds fondness, amusement and a sharp edged self- satisfaction peering back at him. His eyes flick to a silken robe hung up in what looks to be an antique cupboard. He wishes Hannibal would put it on.

In the queue he had managed to convince himself he could use his allure to secure Hannibal’s cooperation and then turn on his heels and walk away. A pair of satin briefs was all it took to derail him, his professional distance gone in a flash, or the snap of Hannibal’s hips. That thought, and its accompanying image, is hastily stuffed behind a door marked ‘denial.’

Hannibal makes no attempt to cover himself. There is no vulnerability whatsoever in his near nakedness. He stands just as comfortably as if he were wearing an elegant suit and discussing the virtues of organic meat with his dinner party guests. It is admirable and Will finds it far too alluring.

Will forbids his eyes from following the shifts of the toned, tanned body before him. He is in no doubt that the subtle movements of perfectly sculptured limbs and muscles are absolutely intended to distract him and trap him.

 _I wouldn’t mind being caught_. The door is slammed loudly on that thought too.

“To what do I owe this unexpected but welcome visit?” asks Hannibal.

Standing a little straighter, shoulders back and chest out Will tries to recapture some professionalism. “There is a case the FBI thought perhaps you could help with.”

“The one making the headlines.” Will nods at the innocuous statement but his shoulders sag with the weight of failure.

This case has plagued him, it shouldn’t have done but it has. It screams at him ‘Hannibal’ but it doesn’t have Ill Monstro’s MO, it is entirely different.  He can’t get a read on the killer and Jack is impatient, nothing new there, but Will doesn’t want anymore spectres adding to his nightmares.

Somehow Hannibal is connected to the case but Will isn’t entirely sure how. He’s reasoned with Jack, more to convince himself really, that it is a waste not to utilise the insight of such a preeminent psychiatrist and Alpha. He neglected to mention Hannibal’s other relevant area of expertise, serial killer.

He suddenly feels tired, not just from standing in the queue but with the case and life. He can’t remember a time when tiredness didn’t pull down his eye lids or hollow out his cheeks. Since he pushed Hannibal away his life had come to revolve around cases, there was no one to anchor him, no one to protect him from himself.

Now he remembers why he came. Once the case is solved and the ever present ghosts laid to rest he’ll disappear, leave his phone and go somewhere far away. Just him and his dogs. Will smiles at Hannibal, at the hopes he has placed with him.

They briefly discuss the case, Omegas who have divorced their Alphas have been found killed and publically displayed. The killer makes sure they are shamed in death in a manner the victims would never have allowed in life.  

“Do you see yourself in this Will, do you see us?” asks Hannibal. It’s a pertinent question but Will can tell it is also meant to make him squirm.

Will doesn’t squirm, he snorts, “I’m an Alpha and we were never in a relationship. Close but no cigar Hannibal.”

Their eyes meet, the sides of Hannibal’s lips quirk up in that amused way of his. A moment of shared intimacy. Will feels his heart speed up and heat starts to rise in his belly. He is the first to look away.

“I have some ideas Will, but now is not the time nor the place to discuss them. I’m only here for a demonstration fight, I can be home in two hours, meet me there... ” Hannibal turns around and makes his way over to a desk.

As Hannibal walks away Will keeps his eyes firmly set on greying strands of well cared for hair and ignores his mind begging to drop lower. For a moment he gives in, he blushes deeply at the sight of a firm ass then he turns away and finds another painting to admire.

“Here is a spare key,” says Hannibal as he comes to stand besides Will. “Take a long route back if you want to avoid being tailed by reporters.”

The key is held out, Will hesitates he’s not sure it’s a good idea but his hand reaches forward and takes it anyway. 

Just before he lets go of the key Hannibal asks, “did you miss me?”

 _With every beat of my heart._ “No,” Will replies.

Hannibal’s soft chuckles follow him out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments - it has meant a lot :)
> 
> at first I wasn't going to write sex, then I thought I would but in the end I got them to the bed and left them there. sorry about that. I started writing the sex and my mind just blanked so I decided that rather than potentially leaving this unfinished I'd post this. I'm happy with how it ends and I hope you are too. 
> 
> no beta etc

The long drive to Hannibal’s house did nothing to diminish the warmth which had ignited in Will’s belly the moment he saw the little black briefs.

He didn’t give a moments thought to whether he should be heading to the den of the very Alpha whose pheromones had, all those years ago, kick started an unwelcome change in him.

Even now as he turns the key in the door and walks through rooms saturated in Hannibal’s scent it doesn’t occur to him that this might not be the wisest course of action.

The heart of the Hannibal’s home calls to Will. His fingers skim along the smooth surface of the kitchen counter. He cant help but imagine white sleeves turned up, an apron tied around slim hips and a master performing his art. For whether he is slicing vegetables or a victim’s neck Will is sure Hannibal does it with skill, dedication and beauty.

His fingers latch on to an apron, he brings it to his nose and takes a long, deep inhale. _Hannibal._ His eyes flutter shut, the pheromones are doing a fine job of relaxing him body and mind.  A part of Will’s mind starts ticking away cataloguing the Alpha scent, _strong, healthy_ , _mine_.  An urge builds in him to sink into the floor and wrap himself in the apron. He takes another sniff, Will can’t think of any reason not to curl up in the corner and wait. _Fertile_. Eyes jerk open, his mind becomes crystal clear, Hell no, _what the fuck was I just thinking._  

His first instinct is to blame the Omega, that part of him he had tried to hammer down years ago but in truth it had never really gone away. But he knows he is not split into Alpha or Omega that he is just himself and that part of him wants to stay and stoke the fire already burning within him.

Another part knows he is befuddled by the pheromones saturating the house as well as the rooms at the Alpha games studio. Leaving is the sensible thing to do. Get some fresh air, he tells himself, then arrange to meet Hannibal tomorrow on neutral ground.

It’s this part he listens to as he heads back to the main entrance.

Its a struggle though. The urge to further explore the house, find the bedroom, curl up in sheets is pretty intense. _Couldn’t he just_... _No_ , Will firmly cuts off that chain of thought.

He can think about his whole motivation for contacting Hannibal when he is back on his porch, whiskey in hand and his head cleared by the night air.

His hand reaches out to pull the door handle and then he realises he still has the apron.

It takes a minute to return to the kitchen, and another two minutes for Will to extract the apron from his fingers. Through gritted teeth he manages to leave it on the counter top. Hannibal eyes will surely twinkle smugly when he sees it lying crumpled and smelling of Will’s interest. There is no way, unfortunately, to return it to its former pristine condition and perhaps there is not a small amount of satisfaction, for Will, in bringing a bit of chaos into order.

.............

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, why do I never lock doors. Fucking idiot_. Will could berate himself for longer but the man, the Alpha, at the door doesn’t seem in a patient mood.

He is the sort of Alpha no one would give a second look to. Its true Alphas win the genetic lottery but only if they conform to an ideal.  Will is aware that he himself is far from ‘ideal’ but that sort of thing never bothered him, but it bothers this Alpha that is for sure.

This Alpha is no doubt educated and cultured but physically he is no Greek sculpture or Hannibal Lecter, he is an also-ran.

Ah, thinks Will, of course. It makes perfect sense, who would notice him enough to suspect him.

Now though is not the time to be building a profile. This Alpha is raging. Will can see blue sky disappearing as the door is firmly closed and the key, which he stupidly left in the lock, slipped into the Alpha’s blazer pocket.

Then the rant starts. A tirade against Omegas all directed at Will, and a polite, ‘I’m not an Omega,’ just isn’t going to cut it.

Will isn’t really listening. He catches the occasional word, _weak, manipulative, filthy_ , the hatred just drips out of the Alpha’s mouth.

Will is backing up slowly. The Alpha is much larger than him and also hyped up on rage. He knows he cant take him on physically and there is nothing to be gained by trying to talk him down. He is going to have to fight for his life. The thought is a frightening one, his heart hammers in his chest, but he cant afford fear. Calm, be calm its the only chance he has.

In other circumstances Will would snicker at the idea that Hannibal needs protecting from someone like him. It such an idiotic statement, one of many coming out of the Alpha’s mouth. An obsessed fan.

Will doesn’t have time to feel guilt over the Omegas who died because this Alpha hates him. It is as illogical for him to feel guilt about it as it is for this Alpha to hate him for his ‘relationship’ with Hannibal, but that’s humans for you. If he survives this he’ll probably feel a nice dose of guilt later, but right now Will wants to get to the kitchen.

The Alpha is bulky and probably not quick on his feet. Getting to the kitchen and finding a weapon seems as good a plan of action as any.

Then the ground rises up to meet Will’s face and it is over before it even begun.

There is a small step up to the kitchen and he trips over it.  He puts his hands out to break his fall but the Alpha is on him. His mother always said his clumsiness would be the death of him and she was right, he can almost hear her say, ‘I told you so.’  

Will struggles frantically, trying to buck the Alpha off his back but it’s to no avail. His hair is yanked so roughly it feels like he could lose chunks of scalp, but that is the least of his worries. With every slam of his head against the cold, hard tiles Will feels his regrets surfacing. If he’s going to die in Hannibal’s home surrounded by the smell of hatred he should have at least have had the pleasure of fucking the man.

The pressure from his back releases quickly, he catches his breath as pain shoots through him. Even though his life may depend upon it he can do little more than try to scramble away from his assailant. His fingers rake at the kitchen floor, any minute now he expects the final killing blow, he hopes it’s quick.

Somehow Will manages to turn over, pain flashes through him disorientating him for a moment and then he sees Hannibal.

........

Hannibal is godlike striding a stage too small for his glory. Anyone else might think the other Alpha has a chance. They are trading blows and Hannibal does not seem to be pressing home his advantage of experience and skill. But like the Greek gods Hannibal is a deity who likes to play games with mortals.

For a fleeting moment Hannibal locks eyes with Will and grins. It communicates so much, his viciousness, his amusement and his love.

Will could almost, but not quite, feel sorry for his attacker. Even now the Alpha probably thinks he can get out of this alive. Perhaps in the back of his mind he has constructed a fairy tale. One were he fights impressively, proves he is more worthy than Will and walks hand in hand with Hannibal into the sunset.

It’s not going to happen.

A cat is toying with a mouse, not even a mouse more an insect and it is waiting to see if its master wants to play too.

Standing is not easy, every bone in Will’s back feels like it has been crushed and the world turns so quickly he might throw up. Once on his feet he takes a moment to allow the world to steady, then stretches and bends. Each vertebrae clicks back into place.

There is no need to hurry Hannibal has everything contained.

Will’s eyes wander over Hannibal. He admires how graceful his movements are and for the first time allows himself to concede that beneath his clothing Hannibal is delightfully well formed. _Is he deliberately preening_ , Will wonders. He burns a little bit hotter just from that thought.   

His fingers find something much sharper than an apron this time.

Hannibal secures the Alpha in a choke hold and positions him, a gift for his love.  

Even as the knife slides wetly through tender flesh Will isn’t angry. If any thing he feels gratitude towards the Alpha for helping him see that he does belong with Hannibal. It was this Alpha’s fate to bring them together and now he will help them consummate their love.

....................

 

Hannibal is running his hands, for entirely medical purposes, through Will’s hair when the FBI arrives.

“How is he doing, doctor,” asks Jack Crawford.

“A little concussed. I’ll have to watch him for the next 48 hours but he should be fine.”

Jack, the ever serious assistant director of the FBI, smirks, yes smirks, at the mention of ‘watching Will for 48 hours.’ He might just as well have gone ‘nudge, nudge, wink, wink’ to Hannibal.

It’s a little like having an uncle know what you are going to be getting up to. Will considers making his excuses and leaving, but the desire to fuck Hannibal is throbbing in his pants and keeps him rooted to the spot.

Fortunately Jack doesn’t hang around to witness Will’s cheeks go an even deeper shade of red instead he walks over to where the body lies. He looks it over, an eternity passes by.  

Strong arms encircle Will’s waist pulling him close but Will can’t take his eyes off Jack. He wonders if Jack can see that this is more than a justifiable kill. It is justifiable, but if Jack looks close enough will he see evidence of Will’s exhilaration and Hannibal’s games. Could too much be given away. Will holds his breath. He doesn’t want to lose Hannibal now.

When he has finished his contemplations Jack’s eyes meet Wills and they are full of questions.

“It’s the Omega killer,” says Will, as if that should answer all possible questions.

Jack nods but doesn’t say anything his mind is still working things out.

“His name is Franklyn Froideveaux, he was a patient of mine,” offers Hannibal as he pulls Will even tighter to his chest.

“It seems he became a little too attached to you doctor,” responds Jack. He looks one more time at Franklyn then back at the happy, if anxious, couple.

“An open and shut case of self defence and mate protection,” pronounces Jack. “It wont even reach the courts.”

Jack pats Hannibal on the shoulder and his hand indicates towards Will’s neck, “Now you two go upstairs, bite, and all of this goes away.”

.........

They are on the stairs when Will throws Hannibal against the wall. The blood smeared on Hannibal’s chin is mesmerizing and far too much for Will’s self control.  Hands start pulling at shirts and belt buckles, a tongue flicks out and catches a red droplet, Hannibal groans.

“Find a room,” booms out from somewhere below.

.........

The room they fall into has a bed and that is all Will cares about. Truth is even if it didn’t have a bed the floor or wall would do just as well. He has never wanted to get naked and fuck more than he wants to now.

Will wonders how and why Hannibal still has clothes on. His mind hums with a need to mingle scents and the shirt, trousers and underwear are getting in the way. Damn Jack for stopping him striping Hannibal on the stairs, it may have only delayed the inevitable by minutes but those were precious minutes. His hands push a white shirt over broad shoulders and slide down bare skin, he nuzzles into Hannibal’s scent gland, “God you smell so fucking good.”  It makes his mouth salivate and his mind a little crazier.

With the tip of his finger Hannibal lifts Will’s chin and brings their mouths together. The kiss is slow, a gentle tangle of tongues. “You taste like sin,” he says when they part.

They smile at each other open mouthed, exchanging breath.

Hannibal inhales deeply and like blood to a shark the first drop of slick calls to him. He wants nothing more than to get his cock in Will’s ass and his teeth in his neck. Instinct though has never been his primary drive, Hannibal would not have survived so long as the top predator if it were.  

In the wee hours of the morning with a glass of wine in hand it isn’t unknown for Hannibal to turn his thoughts to Will. A Will of hunger and certainty. Blood does feature in these fantasies. The reality though feels different. Not that he doesn’t want that particular fantasy to come true he does, but not their first time together. It feels improper, distasteful.

With Will’s fingers entwined in his hair Hannibal is all too aware that that he is covered in blood.  “Just let me clean...”

In no mood to let go of his prey Will nips at Hannibal’s bottom lip, “Do you think I’m bothered about a little blood. Now get on that bed...”

It’s the brush of Will’s thumb over his bitten lip which almost has Hannibal capitulate, almost.  He is careful to maintain eye contact when he takes Will’s hands in his own and kisses them,  “Will, my love, please.”

Maybe it’s the ‘my love’ or maybe its the ‘please’ but Hannibal feels the moment Will sags slightly against him.

“One minute, Hannibal. No more,” says Will with a sigh.

It is physically painful when they part, like the ripping of a well stuck plaster from delicate skin. But there is not long to wait before Hannibal steps back into the room, cleaner and naked.

Will cannot tear his eyes from Hannibal’s cock, like everything about the man it is something to boast about. Hannibal’s cock is designed to be taken by an omega and although Will has started to produce slick, his body is not yet fully adapted. He can no more help a flutter of nerves then he can a lick of his lips.

Will is naked too. Hannibal admires how his skin looks silvery in the dim lights of the room. He allows his eyes to wander over the lean muscle and almost hairless body. How this man could be anything other than an omega Hannibal doesn’t know. It makes his heart skip a beat when Will gets onto his hands and knees. _He is perfect_ is all Hannibal can think.

Hannibal walks over to the bed and with the lightest of pressure to a pale shoulder encourages Will to lie on his side. He settles himself down across from Will. His hand finds a sharp hip, skin trembles beneath his touch.

“Hannibal please, I need you.“ Hannibal’s cock stirs at the words, a weaker man may have taken Will there and then but he is not that man.

With his free hand he strokes Will’s damp curls. “Not yet, you need more time.”

With a firm touch Hannibal runs his hand from Will’s hip to his waist. The flesh beneath his own is burning and the Alpha in him craves to possess it. He repeats the movement, hip to waist, waist to hip, over and over again. It is grounding and soothing. Will wiggles closer, his breathing shallow pants, his eye lids flutter drowsily.

Will’s touch is light, barely a touch at all. Finger tips drift up Hannibal’s back sparking tiny shocks in their wake. They pause at each mole and skin imperfection exploring and mapping everything which belongs to them.  It feels like torture to Hannibal, the sweetest kind of torture and the one most likely to break him.

“How did it make you feel?” asks Hannibal. He knows the answer but he wants to hear it. Wants to hear Will confess his sin in this most intimate of moments. Ensure that what binds them together is more than the sins of the flesh.

Eyes that had looked almost drugged a few seconds earlier are as clear a blue as Hannibal has ever seen them.

“Awake,” replies Will. The smile he gives Hannibal is perhaps like the one Eve gave to Adam, full of knowledge and seduction. “I liked it.”

................

After they are mated Hannibal takes Will off to their own private island. They travel back to the mainland for visits to the opera... and other hobbies.


End file.
